I'm Friends with a Monster
by MisguidedNomad
Summary: Sterek. No plot. Non-cannon. Just read it, it's really good.


**I'm Friends with a Monster**

Words: 1,022

Pairing: Derek/Stiles (Sterek). First Teen Wolf fic. First Sterek fic... It's obvious I'm not sure what I'm doing.

_title taken from 'Monster' by Eminem ft. Rihanna_

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**POV 1:**

A pale glow flickered across the walls; A candle the only source of light in the room.

Stile's body, flushed and burning, laid spread-eagle across the twin bed, hands and feet bound to the head and foot board.

Sweat trickled from his brow. The coldness of his sweat, against the hotness of his body made him impossible harder.

The candle burned brightly, accentuating his features in soft flashes of mellow yellow and burnt orange.

The room wreaked of sex, in smell and taste; The strong aroma of sex keeping Stiles hard.

It was unanticipated, the heavy weight landing on his chest. And he let out a grunt at the sudden pressure.

He swiped his tongue across his lips, the broken and chapped skin stinging at the moisture.

He knew the moment the blunt bulbous head of his partners cock touched his lips, another round had begun and he sucked it into his mouth with earnest.

The soft drizzle of pre-come leaking steadily from the slit of the cock, made him moan, and he sucked it harder and faster, wishing he could use his hands to pleasure that which he could not touch.

The pre-come was soon replaced by a load of sticky spunk, and he moaned, his hips thrusting up, searching out friction that he knew wasn't there. The come slowly slid down his throat, and the taste bitter and sweet at the same time, his cock hardening even more at the thought of having something only his partner could make inside of him, knowing it was for him and _only_ for him.

He begged, "Please," in a choked out, fucked out voice, wanting/needing something.

All he got in response was a loud, deep mischievous laugh.

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**POV 2:**

I look at the figure lying spread out on the twin bed, hands and feet bound.

I watch droplets of sweat trickle down his brow. I can tell it makes him harder, the goosebumps slithering across his skin adding to the pleasure as they flow up his dick.

I lick my lips, the smell and taste of come almost too much. I can tell it keeps him hard, achingly.

I silently make my way across the room, swinging my leg over him, and sitting down on his chest.

I can tell he's surprised, and it makes me harder. Having him at my mercy, knowing the blindfold keeps him from knowing whats going to happen. It's all almost too much. That's why I've sit on him. I'm gonna make him suck me, fill him up with my come until it's all he can taste, all he'll know.

I watch his tongue snake out, wetting his lips, and silence my moan by biting my lips. I'm in control. He's at my mercy.

I push my cock at his mouth, watching as he opens, accepting, to take it's girth.

His mouths so warm, always gets me hot and bothered. I could come just from this. From just him taking me in, but I don't. I inflict a little pain on myself, just to keep me off the edge.

I watch his spit slick lips slide up and down my cock, feel his tongue dancing around the head before toying with the slit. He's trying to rip the orgasm right out of me, and he knows he can.

I can see his hands twitch, know he wants to touch me, possible wrap his hand around the part of my cock he can't take in.

I thrust forward a little, slowly inching in, trying to bury myself in his tight hot heat.

I hear and feel him moan, and my hips stutter, pre-come now leaking steadily from the slit. I can tell he enjoys the taste, can feel him swallowing around me. It's almost to much, but not quite.

I thrust deep, feel his throat stretch to accommodate me, before I pull out some, the steady drizzle of pre-come gone, my orgasm having won me over. I shoot my load into his mouth, watching as his throat works, swallowing it all, never letting any drop. I watch his hips arch up, searching out friction that isn't there. I know he wants me, needs me to help him, but I'm not done. The game has barely begun.

I slid off him, walking silently around the room before reclaiming my place at the foot of the bed to watch him, stare at him in love and devotion.

I run a hand through my hair, soaked with sweat.

My eyes lock to his blindfold covered ones as he begs, "Please."

I'm quite for a moment, a battle going on inside. I want nothing more than to wrap my hand/mouth around his cock and relieve the pressure, but I can't. And I win. I throw my head back, a deep, loud, mischievous laugh bubbling up and out of my throat.

I look at him, can see tears sliding down his cheeks, and that's when I notice the blindfold is soaked with them. I may have one the battle, but I lost the war, and I walk to his side, pulling the blindfold off, and moving up on the bed kneeling between his legs.

I watch him blink, and I wait. I wait. I wait and then he looks, eye now accustomed to the light. I feel his dick twitch against my lips. See him bite his lip in anticipation/hope.

I grin wickedly, licking the tip. I hear/feel him moan, it echoing around the room.

I look up at him, eye locking and I take him into my mouth.

He thrust up.

That one thrust is all it takes,and he's coming like sweet nectar down my throat.

I moan at the taste, loving it just as much as he loves mine. The feeling of having something only he can give me, inside me, makes my dick twitch.

I lean my head against his thigh, listening to his breathing, still not evened out.

When his thigh moves under me, I look up at him.

"Derek," he asked again? It's a plea and a question, wrapped up in one word. My name. And I smile, grabbing the blindfold and putting it back on.

The game begins again.


End file.
